


the weight of everything

by agentcalliope



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Team as Family, carries so much love, melinda may carries so much on her shoulders, that it threatens to swallow her whole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 16:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13505406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/pseuds/agentcalliope
Summary: She says that they don't have to, that she can do it on her own. But Daisy gives her a look, Jemma places a hand on her shoulder, Fitz hands them all protective gear, and Coulson-- Coulson says that she doesn't have to bear it alone.(May buries Robin, and tries to bury everything else, too)





	the weight of everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buckysbears (DrZebra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/gifts).



* * *

 

She says that they don't have to, that she can do it on her own. But Daisy gives her a look, Jemma places a hand on her shoulder, Fitz hands them all protective gear, and Coulson-- Coulson says that she doesn't have to bear it alone.

But it still feels like she has to.

It feels like she must.

 

When Fitz looks back at her, she nods, and he opens the door as May braces herself. She holds the clothed body close and closes her eyes, waiting for the gusts of wind that she must fight through.

But it’s still. Calm. Quiet. The silence of the earth is deafening.

May hears Jemma, saying something about the climate of an uninhabitable earth, and Fitz responding, but May, honestly, isn’t listening.

She hasn’t looked at the bundle in her arms since she picked it up, struggling for a brief moment with a body that’s both small and frail and heavy and large. She had stumbled, and Jemma quickly reached out, exclaiming that May _shouldn’t_ , that especially with her leg she shouldn’t. May had shook her head, and through clenched teeth said that she didn’t need any help.

She was, is, will be, always cursed to bear this weight alone.

(It’s not the first time, after all, that she’s held a body in her arms)

 

May doesn’t look down now, even with the door open. Even though her leg burns and her arms begin to ache, she just blinks, swallows, takes a deep breath, and walks out into the dark.

It’s not long before they reach Coulson and Daisy, standing besides a mound.

Coulson gently takes the weight out of her hands, and she shivers although it isn’t cold. She doesn’t look at him, or the grave at her feet. She just stares at the still mountains of debris and rubble, as the sounds of shifting dirt replay over and over.

After the sounds disappear, Daisy takes an audible breath before she says, “Goodbye, Robin.”

 

After that, They all stand in silence.

After that, they all walk away.

After that, May stays.

 

Still no wind, no force, no might, and she wishes there could be something that would force her to turn back.

There are footsteps. Soft. A brush along her arm tells her that whoever came back is standing close to her.

She continues look ahead.

 

“It feels like I just saw her. She was just a little girl.” Fitz says, and she can hear the slight crackle of his mask as he turns to look at her. “It’s not supposed to be this way. I’m sorry.”

May stays silent, because there’s too much she wants and needs to say but she doesn’t know how to say it.

(May blinks, and she realizes that that’s a lie. She knows exactly how to say what she wants to say. She’s just _afraid_ to. And that seems worse)

“Even before we came here, I didn’t know her.” May begins. “I never saw her, and I barely know anything about her. All I know is that the woman who just died in my arms called me _Mom_.”

May pauses. “And that I raised her. That’s it.”

If Fitz notices that her voice cracks when she says the word ‘mom’, he doesn’t point it out, and May’s thankful for that.

She’s also thankful of the mask she wears, this dark, dark mask that’s supposed to keep this broken, shattered world out. And the wind.  Except, now, there’s no wind at all.  

 

“Well, yeah. But you know what I think?”

She turns towards him, his mask just as dark as her own. “What?”

He shrugs. “She must’ve loved you a lot. To call you Mum.”

He puts his gloved hand into his pocket and pulls out the small wooden figure, offering it to her. “And you must’ve loved her, too.”

May doesn’t hesitate as she reaches out, gripping it tightly but gently, and pulling it close to her.

“You know what I also think May?”

He continues without giving her a chance to respond, which she wouldn’t have anyway.

“I think that she was really, really lucky to have you as a mum.”

She finally looks down.

She looks down at the robin in her hands, the hands that had once pulled the trigger and the hands that were covered in blood. The hands that had held the body as she rocked back and forth, forth and back and screamed although all that came out was silence.

 

The hands that had held the weight of everything for such a long, long time.

(She’s so tired of carrying it, just as she’s tired of wearing this mask.)

 

Holding the robin still in one hand, May reaches up with the other and pulls down the mask. She knows that the air is dirty, soiled and ruined. But as it combs through her sweaty hair and hits her face she can’t help but close her eyes, and take a deep breath.

She looks at Fitz, and she wants to say that she’s sorry. She’s sorry that he’s gone from pulling a trigger with trembling fingers to pulling a trigger with ease. She’s sorry that he’s been at the bottom of the ocean, and that he’s been amongst the sky.

She so, so sorry that she couldn’t save him, and Jemma and Daisy. She couldn’t save them like she couldn’t save Katya.

Like she couldn’t save Robin.

 

But, instead, May says, “A good mom? Even if I’m an ‘ancient has-been’?” And she grins slightly.

She expects Fitz to groan, to furrow his brow and try to explain the situation and assure her that he does not think that she is ancient, or a ‘has-been’.

She doesn’t expect Fitz to step forward, wrap his arms around her, and rest his head in the curve of her neck.

She doesn’t expect herself to let him, but she does. And she lets herself hold someone alive after holding someone who wasn’t.

 

Her arms feel too heavy, and her leg begins to give out.

May hisses and shifts her balance onto her other leg, as Fitz shifts until she’s leaning against him.

May doesn’t push him away.

“Your leg?” he asks.

She nods.

If she could, she could’ve swore she could see the gears turning in his brain.

“You ready to leave?”

She nods.

“Can… can I help you walk back?”

She hesitates, but then nods again.

(Just earlier, she was walking and carrying a body. Now, she’s walking and someone is almost carrying _her_.)

 

It’s silent as they stumble back to the Zephyr, back to the rest of them. The silence is welcoming. Familiar.  And for the first time in a long time May is the one to break it.

“Congratulations, Fitz.”

Fitz groans, loud and clear. “How did she even have the ti— I can’t believe Daisy _said_ —”

“You forget that we’re all secret agents.” May interrupts. “Daisy didn’t have to say a thing for us to figure it out.”

May leans in closer to his face. “You think you’re whispering,” she whispers. “but you’re not.”

Fitz laughs at that, and May smiles.

“But seriously, Fitz.” She says, her voice firm. “I’m happy for you, and Jemma. You both deserve it.”

He blinks, and without his mask May can recognize the warmth in his eyes. The warmth and the love, yes, but also the fear and the pain.

“You’ll get through this. You’ve survived worse before, haven’t you?” She utters.

He musters a small smile.

“So have you.” Fitz says.

*******

She says that they don't have to, that she can do it on her own. But Daisy gives her a look, and begins searching for a place for May to lie down. Jemma places a hand on her shoulder, and bandages her leg with gentle fingers. Fitz hands out a blanket, a pillow, and a cup of tea. And Coulson—Coulson says that she doesn’t have to bear it alone, and he holds one hand until she falls asleep while she clutches the wooden robin with the other.

But it still feels like she has to.

It feels like she must.

 

May was, is, will be, always cursed to bear the weight.

(But never alone)

**Author's Note:**

> for leah, who was promised a fic for the holidays and ended up with this mess of emotions. thank you so much to em and jocie for betaing i love you guys so much. also come find me on tumblr as agentcalliope.


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